West

by Edith Pattou

  My currach, which was miraculously whole again, lay by the water. Inside I could see both my pack and Charles’s, our two swords, as well as the three cloaks folded neatly in a basket, and next to it another basket, which Verendi said held food for the journey. There were also two paddles.

  “You will find your bairn on an even smaller isle than this, due west,” said Verendi, pointing out to sea. “It shouldn’t take you very long to get there. And of course you know now that appearances are deceptive, that things may look different on the outside to you than they do to us. Or to the Troll Queen.”

  I nodded. “Will I find her there as well?”

  “I cannot tell.”

  “Or you will not,” I said.

  Verendi laughed. “But one thing I can tell you, which you may find of interest, is that your love is now a white bear once more.”

  I stared at her. “What do you mean? How?” I stuttered out.

  “I did it,” she said, smiling.

  “Why?” I asked, my mind reeling.

  “Oh, he was drowning. White bears swim better than humans, you know. Much better. And it seemed like symmetry. It was as a white bear that he first loved you, and you him.”

  “But how?”

  “He will be human again, once the pale queen is finished. When I changed him, I wove in that little provision. It seemed only right.”

  “Finished? Do you mean when she is dead? Or . . . ?”

  But Verendi refused to answer any more questions and insisted on helping me launch the currach.

  “Time is of the essence, dear Rose,” she said.

  As I settled into the seat of the currach, paddle in hand, she called out, “Farewell. We are leaving too. Being in the garden has made Skuld nostalgic for the Hanging Gardens in Babylon.”

  “Goodbye, Verendi,” I said.

  She smiled and started to turn away, then turned back.

  “Oh, one more thing,” she said.

  “Yes?” I said, with a stirring of unease.

  “The door to the blackhouse where your bairn lies is locked.”

  I stared back at her. Was this another test or trick?

  She just smiled sweetly. “But don’t worry. You have the key that will open it.”

  She waved at me. “Amor vincit omnia,” she called, and turned to make her way back to the Morae’s blackhouse.

  Neddy

  SIB WAS VERY PALE AND CLEARLY EXHAUSTED, but she looked up at me as I carried her and whispered, “Thank you, Neddy, for not letting me run away. You were right. I couldn’t have helped Rose if I was halfway to Saint Petersburg.” She gave me a weak smile and closed her eyes.

  “I’m glad” was all I said.

  I tried to keep her warm, draping my coat over her, but by the time we reached the harbor, she was shivering violently.

  I had the ship’s cook immediately set a pot of water to boil while I settled Sib in the small cabin that she and Estelle shared.

  Estelle asked how Sib had come to be so wet, and I said I would tell her later but that now we needed to get her warm and dry. While I went to get a cup of tea, the young girl helped Sib change into dry clothing and found some extra blankets.

  When I came back, I found Sib still shivering, and I sat by her, trying not to look as worried as I felt.

  “Will you be all right, Sib?” I asked.

  She reached out and took my hand. Her own hand was like ice. “I have caught a chill is all,” she said. “Sleep is what I need. But I can tell you this, Neddy. Rose is safe. For now.”

  She took several long sips of tea. Then she gave me a sleepy smile, coughed once, and nestled back under the covers. She was asleep in a matter of moments.

  I gazed down at that face I loved so well, wondering what it all meant.

  Part of me wanted to shake Sib, wake her up, and have her tell me what she knew of Rose. But her face was ashen, her breathing labored, and I knew she needed to sleep. I would have to wait.

  Rose

  AS I METHODICALLY DUG MY PADDLE into the placid water, I marveled at how temperate the weather was. It seemed unusual for this time of year, and I wondered if the Morae had something to do with it.

  I felt calm, too, like the sea, which surprised me. I was close to finding my bairn, as well as, most likely, to meeting the Troll Queen again. I should have been filled with both excitement and dread. But instead I had a sense of peace. It wasn’t an unmindful serenity, lulling myself into a false sense that the hard part was over. It clearly wasn’t. But for now I was in a sturdy boat on tranquil waters, and soon I would come to an island with a blackhouse on it. And thanks to Verendi, I knew I had the key to unlock the door, the key Urda had given me. I didn’t know what I would find inside. But both Charles and Winn were still alive. And I would do anything in my power to keep them that way.

  I stopped at midday to eat. Inside the second basket, I found an array of foods I wasn’t familiar with. Among other things, there were pungent green and black olives, a kind of bread that was flat and crusty and very flavorful, a small oblong thing that seemed to be wrapped in seaweed and was filled with rice and meat. I ate happily, the sun warm on my head and arms as I let the currach drift.

  While I was eating, I thought back to the extraordinary experience of the white feather cloak and the way the wind had lifted me. Had I really done wind magic? And had Sib somehow heard me and helped, as Skuld had implied? I dreamily tried listening to this gentle wind that rippled around me now. It was coming from the west.

  White Bear

  Swimming.

  Always swimming.

  Losing track of days.

  Five? Six? Or more.

  * * *

  Endless hunger.

  But then a dead shark,

  floating in the water.

  Belly full, for once.

  * * *

  My nose

  had led me to it.

  The smell.

  * * *

  And I remembered.

  My white bear nose.

  * * *

  I remembered too

  somebody once saying,

  about white bears:

  A pine needle fell in the forest.

  The hawk saw it.

  The deer heard it.

  The white bear smelled it.

  * * *

  I would use my nose.

  It would lead me, guide me.

  * * *

  To Nyamh,

  and to my son.

  Rose

  THE DAY CONTINUED FAIR as I resumed my paddling. I kept the boat on course, heading due west. My eyes were fixed on the horizon, and by midafternoon, I thought I spotted a small dark shape.

  Though my arms were tired, I increased my pace, and the shape got ever bigger. Soon I could make out a small island, with a small building on it.

  My heart was pounding now, all that calm and serenity long gone.

  The closer I got, the more I could see of the island, which was indeed tiny. All that it seemed to hold was a weathered blackhouse. This one did not have the traditional thatched roof. Instead it was made of the same stone as the rest of the building, and I could even see watermarks on the stones on the very top of the roof, from waves crashing up and over it during stormy weather. There were no windows.

  I hopped out of the currach into the cold water at the rocky shoreline. The water was not shallow, and I was submerged up to my waist and nearly went fully underwater at one point, my feet scrabbling for a foothold on the rocks. But I was finally able to pull myself and the currach ashore. Stone steps led up to the door of the blackhouse.

  I shouldered my pack and sword and reached into my pocket for the key. It was a familiar feeling, nestled there as it had been ever since Urda gave it to me. I couldn’t count how many times I had run my fingers over its ridges. I said a silent thank-you to Urda, wishing she could know that I had found my way here and that soon I would see my bairn.

  My heart was racing now. I climbed the steps, key in hand.


  I tried the door, even though I knew it would be locked as Verendi had said. It was, so I lifted the key to the lock.

  Suddenly a dark shape hurtled down at me. I felt a stabbing pain on my fingers, and at the same time, the key was plucked from my grasp. I saw the beady, glimmering eyes of a bird. It swooped up and away, the key in its beak.

  I watched, frozen in shock and disbelief, as the bird circled above me. It looked like a raven, though it wasn’t black, but rather a gray color. The gray of ashes.

  In horror I saw the bird beat its wings, flying due east at a steady pace. When it was just a dot in the sky, I saw it make a slow circle. Then it was flying back toward me. It glided above me, swooping low enough for me to see there was no key in its beak anymore. It let out a piercing caw and began to fly away again, back toward the east. I watched until it disappeared completely from my sight.

  I was numb, undone by shock and a sense of unreality. It hadn’t happened. It could not have happened. Irrationally, I felt in my pocket for the key that had been there for so long. But it was gone. In the blink of an eye, it had been lost to me.

  For a moment, I was seized with the desperate urge to plunge into the cold water, swim out to that distant point where the bird must have dropped the key, and dive and dive until I found it. But I knew it was impossible. Even if I could pinpoint where the bird, the Troll Queen as I thought it must be, had dropped it, the waters here were too deep and too cold. I would never find it.

  I turned to look at the blackhouse. There were no windows, and the roof was made of stone, but perhaps there was another way in, I thought. Yet even as I halfheartedly circled the building, I knew that too was impossible. It was not just the thick walls of stone that would keep me out. I could almost smell the spells of enchantment that wound around this plain-­looking structure.

  Only the key would open it. And the key was gone.

  I sank to my knees in front of the door. I looked at the lock, felt it with my fingers. Filled with anger, I flung myself at the door, pounding on it, throwing my shoulder against it. Pain shot through my body.

  I pounded until my voice and hands were raw. The burn on my palm, which had mostly healed, split open and was oozing blood. Finally I stopped, exhausted, and collapsed onto the stone steps, breathing hard.

  Perhaps I could return to the Morae, throw myself on their mercy. Verendi would surely take pity on me. But they were gone, moved on to the gardens in Babylon.

  I stared again at the lock. I had been so close. On the other side of this door lay my son. And I could not get to him.

  I turned around to look out to sea. Charles. My white bear. Maybe even now he was swimming toward me. Maybe he had found the key. Maybe he could help me get inside this cursed blackhouse. But there was nothing, no sign of any living being as far as my eye could see.

  Tears came then.

  I’m not sure how long I sat there on those stone steps. I shivered in my wet clothing and stuffed my hands into my pockets, empty now of the small key that had been there for what seemed a long time. Tears pricked my eyes again. But I wearily blinked them back.

  I had run my fingers over that key of bone so many times, but now it was gone. The feel of the key was achingly familiar to me, the pattern of indentations along the shaft chiseled into my mind.

  I had the thought that maybe if I found a piece of driftwood, I could carve notches into it in the same pattern. But somehow I knew it wouldn’t work. It had to be a key of bone. Human bone, as the shopkeeper in Calais had said. I pulled my cold fingers out of my pockets and stared down at them. The burn wound was still seeping, and I could see faint calluses from my sword fighting lessons.

  And an appalling thought came into my head. All the times I had held that bone key in my hand, I remembered thinking that it was the same size as my own little finger.

  My mind reeled. No. I couldn’t do it. It was too horrifying a thing to consider.

  And yet. My sword was sharp. It would take only a moment. The pain would be great, but I had borne pain before. And I had cloth for binding.

  But could I do it? And what if it was to no avail? What if the bone key that lay at the bottom of the sea where the raven had dropped it was the only key that would work? And what if my bairn wasn’t even inside this blackhouse?

  Surely I had done enough. No one would fault me for leaving now. But even as I thought this, I knew I could not do it. Charles was somewhere out there, changed back into a white bear. And he would be freed only if the Troll Queen was “finished,” which meant dead, I was sure of it.

  And there was Aagnorak. If indeed the queen was about to unleash the end of softskin life, and in its ashes raise my son to rule the Huldre world, clearly there wouldn’t be anywhere or anybody for me to return to. I had to get inside this blackhouse. Nothing else mattered.

  It was better done quickly. I pulled my dagger out, as well as my skin bag filled with water and a length of clean cloth, splayed my little finger on the edge of the stone step, and swung the blade.

  The next few moments were a blur of pain and blood and revulsion. I must have been in shock, for I felt like I was watching the whole thing from a great distance. I thought I might lose consciousness, but breathed deeply and kept my thoughts steady, focused on my white bear and our child.

  Swiftly I poured cold water over the wound and bound the cloth around the place where my finger had been. Blood soaked through the cloth, and I added another layer, still breathing deeply, desperately holding the feeling of dizziness at bay.

  I sat still for some time, my eyes closed, pain radiating through my body. Then I put my skin bag to my lips and drank deeply. I couldn’t yet look at that which I had cut off my hand, and the thought of what lay ahead made my stomach heave.

  But I did it. I took the bone down to the water and cleaned it. Part of me could not believe I had done this thing. And the effort of keeping my thoughts methodical and objective helped to allay the panic, just barely.

  Very slowly and meticulously, I carved the pattern of notches I had felt on the bone in my pocket for all that time. Even though a part of me thought the whole thing preposterous and unreal, I felt confident that I had at least done the key right. It matched.

  I stood, my legs shaking, and once again climbed the steps to the door.

  This time I held the key so tightly my fingers turned white, and I drew my sword just in case. But no gray raven came, and I slipped the bone key, my bone key, into the lock. I turned it and heard a click, and miraculously the door opened.

  I almost laughed out loud, flooded by a hysterical sense of relief and wonder. It had worked.

  My wind sword at the ready, I entered the blackhouse.

  White Bear

  I had been swimming

  for a lifetime.

  Or two.

  * * *

  Hunger was back,

  gnawing at me.

  * * *

  But keeping my nose above water,

  I let it guide me.

  * * *

  I thought of my son

  as a newborn,

  cradled in my arms.

  The smell of his skin, his hair.

  * * *

  And Nyamh.

  The smell of her

  as she comforted me

  after the nightmare came.

  * * *

  Then I spotted it.

  A small island in the distance.

  A low building.

  * * *

  Though my legs ached,

  I swam faster.

  Neddy

  SIB WAS SICK, VERY SICK. I wanted to set off to look for Rose, but I could not leave Sib, and she was far too ill to travel. I found a woman in Garenin who was known for her healing, but nothing she did seemed to help. She said she did not understand this sickness of Sib’s. It was more than a chill. It was something deep-rooted and very serious.

  I was by her bedside constantly in that cramped little cabin. We had moved Estelle to another room, bu
t the young girl was always at hand, helping bring cool water for the fever and hot tea for the shivering.

  On the second day, Sib seemed to come to herself for a moment. She looked up at me, her eyes bright with fever, and said with a strange little smile, “Please don’t be sad, Neddy. To die will not be sad. It will be a blessing.”

  Tears came to my eyes. “Don’t talk that way, Sib,” I said. “You will get better.”

  “It is not a bad thing, Neddy, if I don’t get better. I can’t explain . . .” She closed her eyes.

  I didn’t understand her words. They terrified me. It was as if she had given up.

  Rose